


Easy Affection

by tsurai



Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: “Is that my shirt?” Hawke asks, a smirk on his face where he leans on the door frame just inside the library.“No,” Fenris responds flatly, ignoring the thrill up his spine that comes from being the focus of Hawke’s attention.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119719
Kudos: 32





	Easy Affection

“Is that my shirt?” Hawke asks, a smirk on his face where he leans on the door frame just inside the library. 

“No,” Fenris responds flatly, ignoring the thrill up his spine that comes from being the focus of Hawke’s attention. Fenris doesn’t look up from his book, nor down at the red shirt with it’s wide shoulders and sleeves bunched up at his elbows, revealing the red band still wrapped around an otherwise bare wrist. Hawke laughs at the terse response, coming to stand near the chaise where Fenris lounges, inconveniently blocking the sun streaming through the high window. He reaches out, flicking the embroidered Amell crest on Fenris’ chest.

“That sure looks like my shirt. Are you sure you didn’t raid my wardrobe again?” Fenris can hear the grin in his voice and fights the twitch of his own lips.

“You’re standing in my light,” he grunts. “And as I am the one wearing it, I believe it now counts as my shirt.” 

There’s still a slight anxiety that comes with the act of asserting ownership when material things were always the first to be taken away back **–** back in his old life. The worry is lesser these days, but he doubts he will be fully rid of it fully for a long time. 

Hawke’s chuckle breaks him out of that train of thought as the man obligingly moves out of the sunlight. 

“Isabela’s ‘finders keepers’ rules, I see. Mind company?” 

Fenris finally looks up to meet Hawke’s warm gaze, the letters in his hand as he gestures at the end of the chaise. Fenris obligingly picks up his feet for a moment until Hawke settles down, placing them in the man’s lap in a motion that’s become more familiar as the months pass. One of Hawke’s hands closes at the base of his calf, the touch gentle as his calloused thumb traces the jut of bone at Fenris’ ankle.

His attention zeroes in on the touch, and he finds himself staring blankly at the book in his hands, unable to concentrate on anything but the back and forth of that touch on his bare skin – still unused to the easy affection with no expectation of reciprocation. 

Even when Hawke starts grumbling about, “Hubert begging me to buy out the damn Bone Pit again” he keeps up the touch, pressure firm but never painful. If he wanted, Fenris could easily pull away.

But the sun through the windows is pleasingly warm, Hawke’s touch soothing, and he makes the choice to relax into it, listening to the easy chatter. Several minutes in and Fenris is starting to drowse, his book sinking closer and closer to his chest, unread.

Which of course is interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Bodahn bustling into the room, for once not waiting for acknowledgement before entering. 

“Messere Hawke! Messere Hendyr is at the door and mentioned something about a group of slavers on the coast–”

Hawke droops and groans dramatically before the dwarf can even finish. 

“There goes my weekend,” he grouches. But Fenris is already sitting up, pulling his feet out of Hawkes lap regretfully. He grabs a ribbon to bookmark his page, heart rate rising at the mention of a favorite quarry. 

“I will go with you,” Fenris demands as he sets his book to the side. Bodahn moves back out of the library as Hawke finally sits up again. 

“Never doubted it,” he says, standing and stretching as if he’d been in the same position for hours instead of minutes. Before Fenris can follow suit, Hawke leans over to press a kiss to his cheek, his beard prickling softly against Fenris’ skin as he murmurs, “Of course, you’ll have to ditch the shirt for your armor, now…”

When he pulls back with a wry smile and a wink, this time Fenris is helpless to do anything but smile back. 


End file.
